


Illusions

by frankcastlesfemfeb (Deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Established Relationship, F/F, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/frankcastlesfemfeb
Summary: Femfeb 2017 | Shortficangela deals with death and her first kill





	

**Author's Note:**

> _malaki_ , hopefully, means 'my angel' in arabic.
> 
> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

Angela's ears rang to the tune of a bell. No, not a bell. Bells were clean and innocent. There was nothing clean or innocent about this moment. Not the gunpowder residue on her hands, or the splatter of blood on her clothes. Her ears rang to the tune of sirens.

" _Doctor Ziegler_." Captain Amari's voice, muffled and far away.  Ana's voice.

Her fingers were shaking, trembling. She shook so badly her gun fell from her grasp. She stared in wide eyed horror at what she'd done. Blood pooled in the dirt, a dark color staining the ground. It just kept growing, bigger and bigger, circling the body at her feet.

" _ Doctor Ziegler _ ."

During her residency she'd taken a turn in the trauma unit. She had seen gunshots before. She had seen plenty of blood, and it had never phased her. It wasn't the blood that left her frozen, it was the fact that she'd done it. She'd been the one to shoot him.

" _Angela_."

Angela blinked, realizing she was back in the barracks. No, not her barracks. Her usual cot was set up near the infirmary tent, but this was not the infirmary tent at all. This was where the command slept. She was in the officer's barracks.

The teacup rattled in her hand. Fine white China with a line of precisely painted gold around the rim. Intricate flowers adorned the cup and saucer. They clattered ceaselessly in her grasp. She had to put them down on the folding table in front of her. The officers in charge were awarded the luxuries of things like folding tables, teacups, and cook stoves to heat water.

It seemed as if it were only a second ago that she was standing over the body. Then again it seemed as if there were endless hours separating her from what had happened. The shooting. The man she had killed. It was her doing, and hers alone.

A horrible feeling welled up inside of her. She began to cry, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She recalled Ana's gentle touch, ushering her away from the scene of her shame. She remembered walking numbly back to camp. She remembered trading her stained lab coat for a canvas jacket. She remembered sitting deadly still atop Ana's foot locker as the Captain brewed some tea. Now here she was drinking it, or trying to. Rattling the teacup and spilling into her lap didn't exactly count as drinking, did it?

"He kept coming." Angela whispered quietly.

She looked up at Ana who was sitting across from her. Her long brown hair was undone, laying over her shoulders. She was quiet but attentive.

"I waved him off but he kept coming. I fired warning shots. He kept coming."

Ana nodded gently. "Sometimes they do."

Angela blamed everything herself, of course. She should have tried to speak to him. She should have made sure the thick vest he was wearing was only Kevlar. She should have called for help. She should have aimed for his arm or his leg. She shouldn't have wandered so close to the edges of camp. She should have known the guards on the perimeter couldn't keep everyone out.

"Why?" She whispered, voice breaking. Why would he keep coming towards her if she was pointing a gun at his chest? Why had it happened? Why had he done such a thing? Why had  _ she _ done such a thing?

Angela saw death every day. Ever since she had become a doctor it surrounded her. She had failed to save patients before, death wasn't new to her. It wasn't the death itself that scared her. It wasn't even the act of violence that scared her.

She knew perfectly well the sorts of things that happened outside the bubble that was field hospital she worked in. She heard stories every day about engagements and ambushes and the other horrors of war.

Because she was a field surgeon and not an infantry medic she saw war differently than the brave souls who frantically tended to the wounded on the front lines. She was encased in fortified camps and safe zones in allied territory. She spent hours extracting bullets, saving internal organs, and amputating limbs. Reality still managed to penetrate her circle. She knew what really happened outside of camp. This wasn't about the nature of violence.

This wasn't about the Hippocratic oath either. She had no illusions about her oath. Although she was here to help people and save lives she had known since the day she had agreed to join Overwatch that she was joining the war. She wasn't broke up, clinging to the fact that she had once promised to do no harm. She still intended to do no harm, of course. It was just that she had a different relationship to those words now. She had known from the start the hypocrisy she was dipping into.

It was something else that horrified her. Something else that drew tears to her blue eyes. Something else that weighed heavy on her chest. Something else that made her ears ring and time feel like a distant, abstract thing.

" _ Malaki _ , you cannot control the will of others." Ana advised her. She reached out to put a warm hand on Angela's.

Angela blinked, tears blurring her vision. "Am I still your angel?" She asked softly, heartbreak in her voice.

That was the crux of it. She couldn't control the will of others.

She knew she had panicked and she knew she would feel guilty for a long time about what she had done, but she couldn't change what had happened. She would find a way to live with herself. She had to.

The real question was what did everyone else think of her? What did Ana think of her? Ana, who's opinion mattered more than anyone else's.

"After what I did, do you still love me?" Angela asked, breathless.

The illusion was shattered. She had paraded around as a doctor determined to save the lives of as many as possible. A student who had completed rigorous training at an implausibly young age. A bright, determined young human being full of hope and good intention. In an instant it had all slipped through her fingers. One gunshot and everyone could see the truth. She was weak in panic situations outside of surgery. She was a hypocrite. She stooped to violence.

It was all against everything she was as a person. She wouldn't blame Ana for refusing her now. She had never really believed someone so beautiful and strong and accomplished would be interested in her in the first place.

Ana drew in a sharp breath. "Of course I still love you." She insisted, and she rose to close the distance between them.

Mercy buried her face into Ana's warm chest. She closed her eyes tight and ignored the visions of bodies and blood behind her eyes. She clutched at Ana's uniform, gathering the fabric in her fists. The relief of it all only made her cry harder.

It felt even better to hear Ana say those words now than the first time she had confessed her love. They had been alone together on a cold night in camp, sitting under a canopy of camouflage netting, looking at the stars in the sky. Angela had never thought she would find love in war of all places.

She never thought she would kill someone either.

She let Ana stroke her hair and she cried, thankful for all the things she had gotten wrong at first glance.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to comment if u like!
> 
> i'm accepting prompts and suggestions for femslash february all year round. drop'em [here](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> also, please check out my [2017 femslash masterpost](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/post/156687675803) on tumblr :) 
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


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